Monday, 9 November 2009

Can't you fucking read? I'm writing about Christian Szylar joining Kinetic Partners. He's the boss of Kinetic's 'newly launched risk and valuation services'. Not that it matters. Not that it matters what I write about. I'm still going to finish my day drenched in blood, up to my neck in dead souls, glowering like a fucking lunatic, in the desert, with red sand pouring out of my mouth. This is my life. Nothing changes.

O Master, try to be more positive. Tell us about Christian.

My child, there is nothing to say about Christian. He is a blank slate. I will scribble my opaque insanities upon his forehead and make him a man. No, more than a man. I will make Christian more than a man.

A shaman? A god?

I don't know, my child. Maybe. Sometimes I just get these urges, you see. I want to pull these people out of the darkness, the confusion, of their lives. They are ignorant. They are weak. And if money burns within them, the flames rarely last more than a day. I want to give them an eternal burning. I want to give them my passion. I want them to feel it.

O Master, you want to save them!

Fuckin' A! I want to save them! I want them to walk in astral fields of rainbow flowers. I want the colours of the universal spirit to stain their faces. I want light to swirl in their acid eyes. That's why I'm here. I am here for a reason.

Where?

HERE! Here in your spastic head, you little fuck! UNDERSTAND ME. In your peyote visions. Swimming in the blood of your body. In the desert of the burning. On the astral plane. Riding an eagle in the astral sky!

O Master, it can only be a matter of time before you become a living god. Big Herb had to die to become the lord of our love. But you -

O my child, I shall be different. Now, back to Mr Szylar. I want to know where he finds the risk. And I want to know what he values.

I imagine he finds the risk on the lower levels of the astral plane.

But he doesn't! He hasn’t even been there! So let us speak of where he should find risk. Of what he should value.

O Master, the risk!

My child, there is a terrible risk on the lower levels. Where Satan lives in his empire of evil! Where Jack Pickles sucks the ashes of his despair through the holes in the skulls of his victims! Burnt money is the despair of this sick financier! That is the greatest risk of all. What if Jack were to spread his demonic ashes over the entire world? What if all the bankers and the traders were covered in that fucking filth? It would eat their skin away! It would work all the way through to their souls. And then they would belong to Jack. Ultimately, they would belong to Satan. Satan would devour them! We cannot let it happen. No! No! No!

O Master, what should Mr Szylar value?

O my child, tiresome fool, don't you know? He should value the burning! The eternal burning of the holy cash! Money that burns forever and that is never reduced to ashes. Never, never, never, will the fire go out. Never will the love fade.

The love you have for all your followers?

Not just me. Big Herb loves everyone who burns with money. Ganesh loves. The ghosts of the dead financiers love. THE COSMOS LOVES!